HIGH SCHOOL SONIC HIGH SCHOOL
by Bryon Nightshade
Summary: As the Sonic characters gather for a new high-school themed production, things take a turn for the surreal. Parody, songfic (sorta).


The sign on the door proclaimed "CAST ONLY". Strictly speaking, this meant that only the beautiful people were allowed inside. In practice, the sign meant less than a speed limit sign on a metropolitan highway.

For now, though, only members of the cast were behind the door, walking—or occasionally staggering—in to prepare for the new production. Rouge entered holding a cup of coffee so black that her bodysuit was bright by comparison.

"Hard night?" teased Knuckles, lounging back in a chair, awake and alert. Annoyingly so.

Rouge flashed teeth at him. "You just wish yours was, red." Knuckles scowled at her.

"Everyone here yet?" said Sonic with characteristic impatience. He had no coffee, but then again, he wouldn't. Once, on a lark, he had gone into an upscale coffee shop to see what all the fuss was about. Once was enough. Since then, Sonic was under an industry-wide lifetime ban.

"I'm here," said Cream cheerily. She thought coffee tasted funny and, with the energy of youth behind her, had no need for it. "I wanted to be early, just in case."

"It's a good habit," said Tails approvingly. "I wish I could get Sonic to be like that. He prefers to wait until the very last second."

Sonic shrugged. "If you insist." He opened the door, and then blew through it so quickly the door shut from the vacuum of his passage.

It opened again a moment later. "What was that all about?" wondered Amy as she entered.

"Sonic's being too literal again," said Tails, supporting his face with his hand. "Or he's teasing me by doing it on purpose."

"I'd wager the latter," said Shadow grumpily. No one had seen him come in. "He's obnoxious like that."

The door opened once more. In walked the casting director. "Is everyone h—" he began.

Sonic slid into the room past the casting director before the sentence finished. "Woo-hoo, right on schedule! Am I good or what?"

The casting director gave Sonic a blank stare while the other animals groaned. He managed to rally, and said, "Ooo-kay… today's production is a high school story."

If the animals had been complaining before, the sound that came from them now was the wail of the damned. "Not another one!" said Sonic.

"I hate these," said Amy.

"Don't we do these stories over and over again? And aren't they all the same?" said Tails.

"No complaints, that's what the author's called for," said the casting director. "It's a high school story and that's that."

Knuckles looked over at Rouge. "Well, you should be happy. You're too old for a high school story."

She plopped into a chair and rested her chin in her free hand. "You never learn. Since when have people's ages ever mattered?"

"Rouge, we talked about your attitude," chided the casting director. Rouge gave him a gesture suggesting what he should do with her attitude. "Rouge," he said, more sternly.

Rouge raised her head. The smile that crossed her face was not typical for her—neither sultry and tempting, nor predatory and conniving. Instead it was comically broad and almost manic. "Of course, Mister Casting Director! I'm sure this author knows exactly what he's doing and exactly why I should be in a story with high school kids!"

The smile left the casting director unnerved. He did a quick mental check on whether pushing the issue would improve things. "We'll work on it," he said. "Alright, everyone, it'll be the usual arrangements. Cream, Tails, Amy, you know what that means."

Cream squirmed in place and put her hands behind her back. "Sir, do I really have to? It itches!"

"You're in the story, so you'll have to be the right age," he replied.

Sighing in resignation, Cream stepped forward until she was directly in front of the casting director. The casting director raised a clipboard, rifled through a couple of sheets, and selected one. Looking over to Cream, he snapped his fingers.

Cream's pre-adolescent frame stretched and distended. It looked as if she were a rubber band being drawn tightly upwards. When her head was up to the correct height, slightly shorter than Sonic, her body began to fill out. Her dress restitched itself to accommodate her new dimensions. Her arms and legs lengthened appropriately, and subtle but noticeable curves emerged.

"So itchy!" she said, scratching frantically up and down her arms.

The casting director compared the Cream standing before him against the Cream on his clipboard and nodded approvingly. "Tails, you're next."

"You know," said Tails, his namesakes twitching behind him, "even if we look older, we won't really be older, right? We'll still only have lived the same number of years, so we'll only have that much life experience. My ten-year-old mind will be trapped in a teenager's body."

"So?" said the casting director.

"Well, I won't be used to the hormones, for one," Tails said. Even the casting director recognized their motion as nervousness. "And I won't act like a teenager—I'll act like a ten-year-old."

"That's why we give you a script," the casting director replied indulgently.

"Plus won't my relationships change? Doesn't my hero-worship of Sonic not work the same if we're the same age?"

The casting director rolled his eyes. "If you insist, we'll make him a senior and you a freshman. Does that make you happy?"

Tails frowned as his mind rebelled against the notion that this was somehow a favor. "But he's not a senior… he's fifteen. And if he's fifteen, that makes him, what, a sophomore? Then if I'm a freshman…"

The casting director cut him off. "Look, these stories have their own internal logic. It doesn't matter what kind of relationship you have normally, you're going to have whichever one you're written into."

"Then… aren't I just a hand puppet at that point?"

Knuckles mouthed the words in confusion. Rouge caught his attention and made a sharp gesture with her hand. Knuckles' eyes widened for a moment, then he winced.

"Yes, but a very popular hand puppet," the casting director conceded. "So are you ready for the process now?"

Tails felt like he'd lost an argument he should have won, but he couldn't think of anything more to say. He bowed his head. The aging process did very little for him other than make him taller and even out his proportions.

"I'm never fond _of that_," he said, and his voice broke mid-sentence. The other animals tittered at him. "It's not funny," he protested. "I'm not _used to this voice_!" It took effort for the others not to laugh openly. Tails returned to a nearby chair and plopped into it, arms sullenly crossed.

"My turn," said Amy, with more enthusiasm than either of her predecessors. She stepped before the casting director. Unfortunately for her, her transformation was more like Tails' than Cream's. When it was over and she was gripped by the post-change itchiness, she noticed that she had barely more curves than she'd begun with. "Really?" she pouted. "Is that the best you can do?"

The casting director shrugged. "I just match the drawings," he said. "Now sit tight, I'll be back with scripts soon."

Knuckles stood and walked over to a nearby box. Within were a handful of different colored darts. He picked one for each of the animals in the room. "Alright, you know what that means," he said. "It's time for Darts."

Everyone began to gripe and complain at the prospect. "Look, I don't come up with the rules," Knuckles said. "This is just how these authors do things, we all know that. So come on over and let's play Darts for Roles."

The others assented, grudgingly. The dartboard mounted on the wall seemed fairly standard, but instead of a scoreboard next to it, there was a document. On the document was a key that related where the person's dart ended up to what the character's role would be. Some of the entries included Cool Outcast, Emo Kid, Out-Kid With A Heart of Gold, Snotty In-Kid, Cool In-Kid, Ambiguous In-Kid, Slut, and, correlating to the bullseye, New Kid/Hero/Heroine.

"Um, Ms. Rouge?" said Cream as they stood in the back of the line.

"Hm?"

"Why do we use this method to decide on our roles? They seem… well, made-up, and unchangeable."

"That's because so are the roles in these stories," Rouge said tiredly.

"But I don't know if I could do an outcast role. I've always been able to make friends wherever I go. How could I play an Outcast? I don't know how."

"Easy. Follow the script."

"O… okay," said Cream dubiously. "It's just… wouldn't it be better for the authors to design the roles for us than to try and force us into roles we don't know?"

"You must be new here."

"I'm not," Cream insisted. "I'm only now saying anything, that's all. I don't understand."

"What is there to understand? It's a job like any other. You do it, then you go home and shower until you feel clean again, even if it takes an hour." Rouge was thoughtful for a moment. "You might also want to invest in industrial-grade mouthwash."

"What for?"

"Just don't hit the 'slut' space, okay?"

"But what _is_ a slut?"

The room had gone quiet for a moment. Finally Rouge shrugged and said, "Let the internet tell you. Who throws next?"

A knock at the door interrupted the conversation. Noise ceased in an instant. Eventually Knuckles went and opened the door. The newcomer wore distinctive blue boots and a blue vest. She looked both familiar and out-of-place.

"This is the casting room for the new High School production, right?" she asked tentatively. She couldn't help her nervousness. Fourteen eyes were staring at her.

Knuckles frowned. "You're not part of our regular cast," he said.

"I know," she agreed.

"You're part of that other Sonic show, I thought."

"I know! That's why I was so confused when the casting director dragged me over here."

Knuckles' brow became more furrowed. "That other show has a much different tone, too. We're pretty happy-go-lucky over here—except Shadow, but everyone knows he's just a softy in denial." Shadow grunted unhappily but made no other response.

"That's why it's such a poor fit," she said, nodding. "My character's so dependent upon her world that it's bizarre someone would try and transplant her somewhere else. They can do it with Sonic, but only by overhauling his personality."

"Well, there you go," said Knuckles. "There's not really a place for you here, and you don't belong here anyway."

"That's what I said. I must need a new agent." Her eyes settled on Sonic, who was lounging back in a chair. She peered closely at him and waited for him to respond to her gaze.

Sonic couldn't pretend to ignore her for long. "What?" he said, unnerved.

She smirked. "Nah, you're cuter with black eyes." She shut the door behind her.

Sonic tried in vain to ignore the snickering all around him. "Yeah, yeah, yuck it up," he said. They obliged him. To shut them out, he picked up an advance copy of the script.

Rouge: What the-? You idiot, look what you've done!

Cream: I don't like being in script format! It's scary to be nothing but a voice!

Shadow: I don't mind it. I only have one tone of voice anyway. And I get less out of gesture than anyone else. Assume I'm frowning and crossing my arms, and you've pretty much got it.

Knuckles: But you don't get your action scenes, either.

Shadow: _What?_

Knuckles: Have you ever tried to look like a badass with nothing but dialogue?

Shadow: THIS MUST STOP!

Cream: Pleeeeease! Anything but script format!

Rouge: Speaking as someone who benefits greatly from description, I just have this to say: stop the script format or I'll kill you in your sleep.

Knuckles: How? In this format, you don't have arms. Or boobs, for that matter.

Rouge: That's it, you're going on my list! At least I can keep a list in script format. Here, it's like this.

Rouge's list: 1) Authors who write in script format. 2) Knuckles.

Knuckles: That's a pretty short list.

Rouge: But to the point, isn't it?

Cream: Please, make it stop!

Sonic looked up. Everyone around him visibly relaxed; some shook while others breathed sighs of relief. "What was that all about?" Sonic asked.

"You don't even want to know," Knuckles replied.

Cream turned to Amy. "You've been quiet, Amy," she said.

Amy's arms were crossed and a petulant expression was on her face. When Cream spoke, Amy merely tightened her lips together until they began to turn white from the pressure.

"And I notice you haven't thrown a dart yet, either," Cream added.

"That's because it doesn't matter," Amy exploded. "Let's face it, I only have one purpose in these stories, and that's to hook up with either Sonic or Shadow. That's it! There's no question about it happening, only which of them it will be, and how many chapters it'll take. So wake me up when we find that out, because the writers don't care about me for any other purpose."

"Oh?" said Rouge. "In that case…" she grabbed Amy's dart and jabbed it into the part of the board marked "slut".

"Don't you dare!" Amy retrieved her mallet from Hammer Space and swung. The blow splintered the floor and made people jump at the sound of it, but left Rouge nonplussed after an easy dodge.

"So you do care, after all," Rouge taunted.

"You brat-tastic bat!" Amy called after Rouge; Rouge returned a toothy smile.

"Oh, come on now, Amy. I know you're supposed to be a good girl, but surely you can do better than that."

Yet another knock at the door killed the conversation again. "I'll get it!" said Tails. He opened the door a crack to see who it was—then slammed it shut. When he turned to the others, his eyes were wide; his tails had ceased their usual motions and were stiff and puffed-out.

"It's…" he swallowed noisily. "It's… _fancharacters! _And not just any fancharacters… _'serts!"_

There was a collective gasp of horror. Sonic sprang to his feet. "Alright, you heard him, everyone! We've got a Code I! MOVE IT!"

The room filled with a flurry of activity. Knuckles pushed a couch up against the door and braced it with two lamps, a chair, and a tube of Rouge's Extra-Large Eye Shadow. Tails flew to the top of the room, pulled some tools from whatever random space he keeps tools in, and started to weld shut the cover to the ventilation duct. (As a male, he lacked access to Hammer Space, yet he always seemed to have the device or tool he needed at any given moment. It made the others very suspicious.) Rouge rigged the room with traps. Amy grabbed Cream and dove for cover.

"What's going on?" Cream asked nervously.

"We're being invaded," Amy answered.

"B-b-by what?" Cream said. "M-monsters? Robots? Zombies?"

"Worse. Fancharacters. A really nasty breed, too—inserts."

Cream shivered. Anything worse than monsters, robots, or zombies had to be terrifying. "But what are inserts?"

"Imagine someone with Sonic's speed, Shadow's powers, Knuckles' strength, Tails' intellect, Rouge's appeal, and my charm, but no personality to speak of."

Cream shuddered. "That's terrible!" After a moment she added, "It actually sounds kind of like a zombie, now that I think about it."

"Yeah, and just as infectious," Amy replied. "So we're taking precautions."

Sonic called to Shadow, "C'mon, it's time to break out the napalm!"

"Drastic precautions," Amy amended.

Motion ceased as someone knocked on the door. Rouge flitted over atop the makeshift barricade and listened. "It's not a 'sert, it's the casting director," she called.

"But he might have a 'sert with him!" said Tails.

"True." Rouge approached the edge of the door and started asking questions.

"We have to be careful," said Amy. "Once a 'sert gets in to the story, it's all over."

"Why?" asked Cream. "What happens?"

"You remember during the adventure with Time Eater? Where you had a few small parts, but in the end it was all about Sonic and everyone else got shoved to the side? But it was okay because it was Sonic and he's allowed?"

"Yeah?"

"'Serts _always_ do that. They can't help themselves."

"All clear!" called Rouge. The characters emerged from their hiding places. Knuckles cleared the barricade away (Rouge indignantly reclaimed her eye shadow in the process) and they clustered around the door. Knuckles cracked the door open. A sliver of the casting director's face came into view.

"It's me, it's me," he said.

Shadow poked the barrel of a shotgun through the opening. "Prove it," he said.

After a moment of fear, the casting director's face turned to exasperation. "Where'd you get that?"

Shadow hadn't planned on being forced to the defensive. Awkwardness seized his features. "I found it," he managed. "It was just… lying around."

"Well, put it away, you look ridiculous," the casting director replied. "And everyone knows you do more damage with your spins anyway."

Flushing with embarrassment, Shadow backed off. "It's him," he said lamely. He tossed the shotgun to the side, where, thankfully, it was never seen again.

"To answer everyone's question," the casting director said, "no inserts this time."

The characters knew better than to cheer. "This time?" Tails said suspiciously.

"Right. Change of plans. This story is going to be a songfic."

"A songfic?" complained Shadow. He couldn't stand singing. The other characters, though, were beginning to share a smile.

"What's going on?" asked the casting director. He could sense that something was happening, something he had no control over, and it frightened him.

Spontaneously, in perfect rhythm and harmony and without warmup or tuning, seven voices (even that of a very surprised Shadow) began to sing "Always Look on the Bright Side of Life", by Monty Python, except you wouldn't know it because _you can't post song lyrics on this site._

"I know this song," said the casting director, a disturbed look on his face. As if to rub it in, the characters added whistling after each line of the chorus. "No, you've got to stop, you've—no!" But it was too late. The word "songfic" had made other considerations strictly secondary. Once begun, it was impossible to stop. Tails strolled in front of the casting director and took the lead.

The casting director started waving his arms. "Not the next verse! It talks about death! We don't do death unless it's super-emo! This song needs more emo!" he complained, to no avail. Rouge was already in front of him for the verse, and even Cream joined the chorus,

"Wrong, wrong, wrong!" insisted the casting director. "But we've got you this time. By contract, none of you can swear, so the song has to stop now!" To his horror, Shadow advanced to the front, and the casting director suddenly remembered the contract loophole that had been written for Shadow's game. In a surprisingly deep bass, Shadow sang the verse with the curse word in it.

The casting director threw down his clipboard and walked out. Behind him, Tails, Cream, and Amy became younger, and all the characters wore broad smiles around their singing faces. They serenaded him out the door about always looking on the bright side of life.

The casting director slammed the door shut behind him. Several studio employees were standing in the hallway. They all looked towards the casting director for guidance. He turned in frustration to the closest one and grumbled, "Say lunch."

"LUNCH!"

The employees vanished as if they had never been there. It was, perhaps, the earliest lunch the casting director had ever called. There was no helping it. He couldn't bear working with those critters anymore. Anyway, even if they won this once, what did it prove? They had no choice. They'd do the High School story, and the next one, and the next one after that, so long as that's how people wanted to use them.

Or would they? The casting director remembered he'd dropped his clipboard back in the dressing room. Somehow, he couldn't find it within himself to go and get it. Instead he strolled listlessly down the studio hallway.

Despite himself, he started to whistle.

* * *

_Disclaimer: This story uses characters and situations copyrighted by SEGA. This story copyright Sam Durbin, a.k.a. Bryon Nightshade. Thank you to the people who correctly pointed out that actually posting lyrics on this site is against guidelines, even if one of them was immune to the concept of parody._


End file.
